The Door Into Summer
Chapter 20Stu was much steadier when he woke the next morning. He managed to get off the couch, completely undressed and in the shower by himself. He almost fell twice while attempting to clean up , but succeeded in staying on his feet both times. He dried off and threw on a robe; Jeff was in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee. Within five minutes both men were sitting on the couches drinking the black liquid.
"You make a great pot of coffee," Stu told his partner.
"I know. I'll make a fine little housewife someday. How much trouble did you have taking a shower?" Jeff asked.
"Twice."
"Twice?"
Stu chuckled softly. "That's how many times I tried to fall."
"I'd give anything for a shower."
"Well, go on in and take one. There's clean towels right outside the door."
"I don't think I can drive us to my apartment naked." Jeff could just see himself getting pulled over with no clothes on.
"You don't have to. Remember the last time you had to stay over? I had your suit and shirt cleaned and pressed. There's fresh socks on the bed, and you can wear one of my ties."
Spencer quickly drained his coffee cup. "I could kiss you."
As he got up to head for the shower, Stu replied, "Please don't."
Within an hour both men were dressed and out the door. Stu didn't need as much help as Jeff had given him last night, but they moved at about the same pace. When they got to the office Jeff turned the car over to Jimmy Jack and helped Stu in the front door.
"Stuart!" Suzanne gasped when she saw the two of them. "What are you doing here?"
"Bonjour, Suzanne," Stu offered his usual greeting.
"He's here because I'm stupid enough to let him talk me into it last night. I'm going to put him on the couch, which is where he's going to stay. Send Kookie into the office as soon as he gets here, would you?"
Suzanne nodded. It wasn't more than ten minutes later when Kookie came bounding in the front door. He walked into Stu's office and ran out the side door before Jeff had a chance to say anything.
The next time they saw him Kookie was precariously balancing four cups of coffee and wedging himself into the door he'd left by. He handed a cup to Stu and one to Jeff, took the third out to Suzanne and kept the fourth for himself. He took a long swallow from his cup and looked at the two partners. "Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, dads?"
Stu nodded. "You may have just saved our lives."
Jeff was sitting behind Stu's desk, where he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Stu saw the younger partner wiggle uneasily in his chair and laughed. "Sit still, Jefferson. You're right where you belong."
"How are you feeling this morning, dad?" Kookie asked him.
"Better than I did last night."
"See," Jeff started, "I told you not . . . "
Stuart sighed. "When have I ever listened to you?"
"When it comes to staying in the hospital? Never."
"I rest my case. Now, let's see if we can figure out just where we stand . . . "
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Rachel looked around the apartment and wondered what she was doing there. It was a nice enough place, as far as one-bedroom apartments went, and Tony had graciously given her the bedroom while he chose to sleep on the couch. The closet was big enough to hold all her clothes and what little Tony had. She didn't know how he'd gotten all of her belongings from the motel, and she didn't care. When he returned the back seat was piled high with everything and they carried it in together. There was only one thing missing – Don. She hadn't expected to miss him, and she was surprised when she did. She wasn't lonely . . . she and Tony actually spent more time together. No, there was something about Don that she hadn't seen before. Perhaps it was his innate goodness – Tony didn't have that. Oh, he was the perfect gentleman. He hadn't even tried to kiss her. There was just something . . .
He didn't talk much, and when he did his words were filled with thoughts of hate and retribution. He told her everything he knew about Bailey and Spencer, the private investigators, and Lieutenant Gilmore, the police officer. And he had plenty to say about the three of them, none of it good. She had trouble believing they could all be such vile, despicable people. She tried to get him to tell her about his brother, but when she asked him a question he always changed the subject. Finally, just to get her to leave him alone, he explained that his brother, the one whom he told her was innocent, was killed in prison. At least then she understood his feelings of hatred and revulsion for 'Stu, Jeff and Gil,' as he often referred to them.
She began weighing her options, wondering how long she could put up with his ever-darkening emotions. She even considered going back to her mother and father in Yuba City. If she just had a way to get some money.
That was something she didn't understand, or wasn't willing to see. Tony didn't work, at least not at any nine-to-five everyday job. Yet he always had plenty of money. And he kept the strangest hours. He'd go out at night and not come back until all hours of the morning. But he did have his good points. He didn't suggest she get a job, and he didn't mind she did next to nothing with her time.
He seemed to be planning something, and she assumed it had to do with his thirst for retribution. She started to get a tissue out of the glove box one afternoon when they were riding around and Tony was quick to slam it shut on her. She would have sworn she saw a gun in there, but she knew better than to ask him any questions. Sooner or later, something was bound to give.
They had gone out to eat breakfast almost a week later, and it was in the little diner that she saw her first newspaper since coming to Los Angeles. She was casually perusing the front section when a column on page three caught her eye.
Police No Closer to Solving Officer's Murder. The brutal slaying of Police Officer Dominick West at The Starlight Motel remains unsolved and there are no clues at this point. West was shot six times on the night of . . .
Rachel gagged on her food. That was the night she'd almost been picked up by the private investigators. She checked the rest of the article. The day fit, the time frame fit, and it began to dawn on her why there seemed to be something off-kilter about Tony Daggett. She wondered how many of his tales about the three men who were responsible for incarcerating his brother were true.
'Hey, doll, I thought you were hungry. What happened?"
Rachel looked up from the paper. "Oh, sorry. I guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought."
"Remember, I've got something to do today. I can take you down to the beach and pick you up later if that's okay."
"That's great, Tony. It'll just take me a few minutes to get ready."
"Finished with breakfast?" he asked.
She nodded her head. "I am. Let's go."
Thirty minutes later she was lying on her beach blanket on the sands of Huntington Beach wondering what Tony had to do today. Should she try to call someone and warn them? She wrestled with the question for almost an hour before finally falling asleep. By the time she woke it would be too late.
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While Stu's ribs slowly healed, he and Jeff and Kookie tried desperately to find Rachel. Jeff spent his days checking every motel in the area, the picture of Rachel always in his hand and ready to show the managers one by one. Kookie scoured the beaches, looking urgently for the blonde-haired beauty, all to no avail. Stu split his time between running the office, consoling Rachel's parents, who were on the verge of returning home, and staying in close touch with the Lieutenant and the police department's own search for the girl. The more time passed, the more it became evident they were rapidly losing hope.
One afternoon Jeff dropped his partner off at the North Hollywood Police Department building for a dual purpose. Stu intended to take Gil to lunch as a thank you for all the help he'd given Jeff after the accident. And he wanted to pick the Lieutenant's brain about Don Waverly. At the P.I.'s insistence, they went to Joe's Seafood in Beverly Hills. Gil was uncomfortable having lunch at the posh restaurant, but he'd taken a pass one-too-many times on their intended repast, and Stu was determined Gil not back out at the last minute again. He'd even gone so far as to instruct Sergeant Flaherty not to disturb them.
"You went out of your way to get Jeff to St. Basils as quickly as possible, and I know he appreciated it. So did I, even if I didn't find out until later. You're a good friend, Gil, and we don't acknowledge that as much as we should."
"Thanks, Stu, but you didn't . . . "
"Yes, I did. Now, have you made any progress with Waverly?"
"I think I've gotten about as much out of him as I can. He insists he had no idea about Rachel's obsession with Kookie, and not a clue why she wasn't at the motel or where she could have gone. I believe him, Stu. He seems absolutely heartbroken."
"This one's got me worried, Gil. Doesn't matter where or how hard we dig; we can't catch a break. We're just about at our wit's end."
"That sure as hell is something you don't say very often. I wish I could help, Stu, but we still don't even have a lead on Daggett. And I never figured on him being smart enough to outwit the LAPD."
"Scary thought, isn't it?" Stu asked.
"I'll say. Alright, we've wasted enough time. Come on, I'll take you back to your office."
"This should be the last time you have to drive me around town. The new T-bird arrives tomorrow."
Gil was positively envious. "What color is this one?"
"Red. Cherry Red. I can't wait. I tried to talk myself into something less ostentatious, but it didn't work." Stu grinned and paid the check. The two men headed outside to pick up Gil's car, which the carhop had parked close to the front door. They were just a few feet away when the boy turned the key in the ignition and the car detonated in a ball of flame. Gil was walking ahead of Stu and caught the most significant part of the blast; both men were flung to the ground by the force of the explosion. Stuart's head slammed into the pavement and he fought to remain conscious, not knowing how badly Gil was hurt or where he was. As the private investigator scrambled groggily to his feet, he saw the burning wreckage of the unmarked car and knew there was no hope for the innocent boy who had done nothing more than turn the key in the ignition.
There was no sense calling Gil's name; Stu couldn't hear a thing and assumed his friend to be in the same condition. The blast had flung both men back several feet on the pavement and it took a few seconds to see the Lieutenant face down on the ground. Horrified diners poured out of the restaurant and Stu yelled, "Get an ambulance!"
He hobbled over to Gil and felt for a pulse. There was one there, not the strongest in the world, but at least he knew Gilmore was alive. There was blood everywhere and he had no way to know how badly his friend was hurt; at least he knew better than to turn Gil over or try to move him. Stu heard siren's wailing in the distance and murmured, "Hold on, buddy. Just hold on."
Both men were lucky; there was a fire station less than five minutes away and the ambulance arrived just ahead of the fire truck. The EMT's tried to look at Stu first and he shook them off. "Police Lieutenant. Take care of him."
They'd just finished loading Gilmore when a second ambulance arrived. Stu tried to convince the attendants he was fine but they ignored him and insisted he had to go to the hospital. "Take me to the same place they took Lieutenant Gilmore, then. That's the only way I'll go."
It was the longest five-minute ride he'd ever been on in his life They'd just about finished asking questions and poking and prodding him when the ambulance pulled up at the hospital. Stu immediately began asking questions about Gil and the nurses immediately began ignoring him. He had to wait until a doctor came in to see him before he could get a straight answer.
"Mr. Bailey, are you feeling any aches or pains?" A doctor who looked like he'd just graduated high-school asked him.
"I was thrown violently onto the blacktop of a parking lot when a car exploded. What do you think?"
"So that would be a yes?" the doctor smiled at him.
"Look, doctor . . . "
"Applegate."
"I was just in the hospital a week ago when my car was rear-ended. I had seven broken ribs then. I still have them. Can you please find out how Lieutenant Gilmore is? He was brought in ahead of me. He' a good friend."
"Lay back down, Mr. Bailey, and I'll have a nurse find out for you."
It was close to ten minutes later when the nurse Doctor Applegate had dispatched came hurrying back into the Emergency Room and whispered something long and concerning looking to the doctor. Applegate shook his head and sent the nurse hurrying back out.
"Mr. Bailey, Lieutenant Gilmore is on his way to the operating room right now."
"And?" Stu questioned.
"The surgeon suspects multiple internal injuries, as well as a broken right leg and a piece of metal in his left shoulder."
"He'll be alright, won't he?"
"We . . . we don't know yet. It's too early to tell."
Daggett. You bastard, Daggett. I swear I'll kill you if it's the last thing I ever do, Stu thought. He smiled weakly at the doctor. "Thank you for the information, doctor. Is there any way you can get a phone in here for me?"